Into the Fires of Hell
by Die Wiederkehr
Summary: To escape being sold as a slave through the East India Trading Company, a young woman disguises herself as a boy and joins several pirate crews until being forced into a living Hell: Davy Jones' crew.
1. By the Setting Sun

This is written as the start of Joan/Vick's voyage. The entire fanfic takes place during the year between Curse of the Black Pearl and Dead Man's Chest, and was written to coincide with Little Chiyo's own Keep a Weather Eye on the Horizon.

**Chapter One:** By the Setting Sun

* * *

Joan by name, but she hardly lived up to it. Her hair was a pale blonde, rare and soft, that hung around her waist and made her gray eyes seem terribly dull. In some ways, she could befit her name merely in appearance. Her family insisted that it stay long, that it be feminine and appropriate for a girl of her age. She could read between the lines though: "So you don't shame us." But they were doing just fine a job of that, themselves. With each dinner party, she was introduced to a middle aged man who would insist she dance with them and later in the evening propose. She'd decline and leave the room, perfectly aware that this was all an attempt by her parents to return to a higher social standing.

With each rejection, her parents grew more and more impatient with her. And now she was more than aware of their intentions. She had become a disappointment to them, and she had failed in getting them a fortune with each bachelor she was introduced to. So now, they had made a deal with Lord Cutler Beckett and had decided to sell her into slavery. They didn't realize she knew, clever as she could be, and she spoke with one of the boys that worked in the stables.

"Your clothes look as if they're in need of mending and I've need of something to pass my time. Find a change of clothing and I'll fix them up for you." Obviously the thought of nice, warm, clothes made the lad, only a few years younger than herself, gleeful and he ran off quickly. Within the hour he returned and handed a wrapped bundle to her. Smiling, she went inside and up to her rooms, locking the door. She immediately got to work mending them, cutting fabric from her own clothes to fix a few holes and line the inside. Once that was done, later into the evening, Joan changed into the boys clothes and looked over herself in her mirror, frowning.

She quickly pulled the shirt off and dug through her drawers, certain she had some bandages in there. Growing up, she'd cut herself to many times that her maids just kept a few rolls of them in her room so she could get it wrapped quickly. And, thankfully, one dusty roll of bandages lay in the back of her drawer. The young woman wasted no time wrapping then around her chest. Her breathing was constricted but when she pulled the shirt back over her head and glanced at her reflection, she looked just like a boy of sixteen aside from her hair. This task she took particular glee in.

Her mirror was pulled close to her bed and she sat on the edge so her hair was positioned beside the dummy she had formed under her blankets. And then, she took a knife and cut it short like a mans. Some of her hair was still long, so she took a hold of her sewing scissors and started trimming. Her hair was terribly cut, amateur, but in the end what mattered was that she look like a boy. And she did. All she needed now were leather boots, a gun and a sword. The weapons would be easy enough to collect once she found a ship to stowaway on but it might seem suspicious if she were running around without boots. A glance out her window showed that the sun was setting still. Given an hour or two, she could sneak out of her room and downstairs where she could find boots that some of the servants of the house kept by the door. And then she'd be free.

In the mean time, she sat at her desk and took her quill. She stared at a blank sheet of paper for the longest time before she dipped it into her ink well and started writing:

"_Mother, Father,_

_Likely by the time you read this I will have gone. You may think me insipid, naïve, but I became aware of your intentions to sell me through the East India Trading Company. I could not allow this. As much love as I have for you both, I can't let your schemes for wealth place my wellbeing at risk._

_You'll not find me so don't waste your time searching. Perhaps our paths will cross one day but for your sake, I should hope not._

_Your daughter,_

_Joan Lawrence_

She folded the letter neatly, placing her wax seal on it before placing it carefully on top of the letter. There was nothing here she wanted to take with. She could take some of her jewelry to sell but then the shop owner would be able to identify who sold it to them. Joan could leave no trails, lest she be hauled back and beaten.

Once the sun was down, and the sounds of the house had all but silenced, she unlocked her door and quietly crept down the stairs to the foyer. There were a couple pairs of boots near the door, in horrible shape, but they would do. Trying on the first pair, she was pleased to find they fit, so it took her no time at all to sneak outside and down the path to the gate. Joan took one last glance at the house before climbing over it and running to the docks. There were several ships in port, so she chose one that the lights were still lit onboard and climbed on, looking for the captains cabin. Most the other crew had gone to sleep but others remained on deck, watching the lad that made his way uncertainly to the door that their captain was behind.

She knocked firmly, gathering her wits before coming face to face with an impossibly large man with a dark beard and eyes to match the sea. At his waist was a broadsword, a heavy weapon that only some of the strongest men could lift and use effectively. For a moment, she choked before taking a deep breath and addressing him, making an effort to sound like a boy.

"The hour is late, I know sir, but I need transport to Tortuga. I've nothing on me but the clothes on my back but I'm willing to learn your trade and help with work around the ship until you make port there." There were several laughs from behind her before the captain's sharp glare silenced them.

"What's yer name, lad?" He asked, his voice rough, a deep timbre but kindly. Joan was particularly pleased that she'd pulled off her disguise.

"Vick, sir. Vick Graves." The captain laughed heartily before clapping her on the back.

"Welcome aboard then, Vick Graves!"


	2. A Pirate's Life for Me

I'll admit, I lost some of my drive for this story. I just couldn't bring myself to write because I was afraid that Vick would become a Mary-Sue or my writing sucked. I actually spent a lot of time since my last update roleplaying on livejournal to work on my writing and playing around with Vick, trying to think of how to develop her. That's essentially what the point of this story is, to develop her character from a proper young woman and into a sailor. With the new movie out in theaters now, I got really excited and went back to Into the Fires of Hell. At first, I was paranoid that my writing sucked but that was just the beginning on this story. And I think that, since I first posted, I've become a moderately better writer.

I also altered the first chapter slightly. There's nothing big added, you don't have to reread but I did change Vick's given name to Joan. Valkyria just stopped sitting well with me and it didn't suit the character herself. And now that I've bored you all with this unnecessarily long author's note, I give you chapter two. 

**Chapter Two: **A Pirate's Life for Me

* * *

Vick spent more time on deck in the sun than she ever had in her life. The captain, Samuel Mathers, was a kind man and didn't force her to do more work than she could handle at the start. He was careful to oversee any tasks given to the newest member of his crew and made sure she drank enough water so she didn't dehydrate. Careful as he was though, Vick enjoyed the work given to her. It was honest work that took focus and built up strength, both of will and body; exactly what she wanted. Unless she could build up her body, she wouldn't survive a single day as a pirate, once they arrived in Tortuga.

By nightfall, she'd find her hammock below decks and fall asleep quickly. Her muscles would be sore and achy, but for once in her life: she felt alive. Her first days on board had been horrendous, and her hands hand be cut and burned by rope far to many times but there were a few members of the crew that helped her wrap her hands, after pouring seawater on them. It stung terribly but she bit her tongue to silence her cry but by the next day it was healing a bit more than it might have without cleaning it. And for that she was glad.

Within a week, Vick became a welcome member of the crew. It wouldn't last long but it made her happy nonetheless. Tortuga was still a fair way off, and they wouldn't make port there for another month since the captain had other runs to make. That was fair enough, she was still learning how to work on a ship and how to use a sword.

Today, she was being taught how to cast the mooring lines before they made port. By now, her hands were growing used to handling rope. They were still sore, so she kept them wrapped in bandages so it was considerably more bearable.

"Oi, Vick!" The blonde woman turned towards the man who called out. She hadn't taken the time to learn the names of her crewmates yet but it was better to be social. Things seems less suspicious that way.

"Yeah, whaddaya need?" As the days passed, she fell easily into faking her voice so she wasn't shy in speaking to her mates.

"I know ya asked the cap'n to take ya to Tortuga." And his gaze turned devious. Almost lecherous. "Plannin' on meetin' a few ladies while there?" If she hadn't expected the question to come up sooner or later, than her face would have turned beet red. As it was, her face was already red from sunburn so if Vick had blushed, no one could see.

"Can't say I am. Jus' want to find a few people I know." Vick's voice made the statement sound like a dismissal but it seemed that he just couldn't take the hint.

"Come on now, a strappin' lad like you not wantin' a quick visit to one of the more popular ladies beds?" He roared with laughter with several other members of the crew. Vick was more than tempted to take a swing at him but she was in the captains good graces and that's where she wanted to stay until they made port. So instead, she finished tying down the lines and walked passed him without a word. It wasn't as if she could reply with the truth. It was supposedly terrible bad luck to have a woman on board a ship but over a week on this ship and nothing had happened to any of it's crew. In fact, they hadn't even had a run-in with any pirates which was good fortune indeed.

Below deck, Vick busied herself by checking their stores and making sure everything was tied down securely. That didn't last however as the captain joined her, sitting on a crate nearby. He'd obviously overheard what had happened above deck but he didn't seem displeased the Vick had walked away from her current duties.

"You made a good choice up there, lad, walkin' away. It takes someone who knows self-control to keep from striking out." Samuel tended to be kind towards Vick though, young as the 'lad' seemed. Perhaps there was something about 'him' that reminded him of his own youth or perhaps his own son? Whatever it was, Vick didn't pry and wouldn't. It wasn't her place to dig into the personal life of her captain.

"I'm not that kinda man, sir. I don't think ladies should be treated like slabs'a meat." She said tensely. Just the idea of it made her sick. Almost as sick as when she realized that she was being offered up as a slave of that sort. Sam just chuckled softly, clearing a crate off and pulling it over, across from him, and motioning for her to sit down.

"Quite honestly, I don't think you're much a man at all, are ya?" Vick froze, halfway to sitting down and stood back up, walking over to the wall and leaning against it. Gray eyes evenly stared at the captain but below them a storm raged. What had she done that so obviously showed she was a woman? Why had only he noticed and not the crew? Or had they, and that's why the comment of finding a woman came up? Should she leave when next they made port or continue with her act as a man? Casually, she spoke:

"I don't know what ya mean, sir. I'm as much a man and the rest'a this crew." She kept her words calm, trying to remain nonchalant. However, the captain would have none of that. Samuel was an intelligent man and 'tsked' softly while he shook his head.

"Vick, lad… I'm an older man, I've seen many men come onto my ship and work. Lads around your age, looking to become pirates and strike it rich. I've seen many women-" Before she could open her mouth to retort, he held up his hand and went on. "Not in such a scandalous manner, I've only one woman I ever had such a thing for and she left the world while givin' me a son. Now mind'ya, I've been around. I know what lad and ladies look like around your age and you ain't a young man. I can tell by the manner ya hold yourself and by your build that you're no more a lad than my late wife." All the time he spoke, he kept himself relaxed, even fatherly. Vick couldn't stand lying to him before but now… In frustration, she slammed her fist into a crate nearest her before a tear slipped down her cheek.

"How many others have noticed?" The captain shook his head, not needing to voice that he was the only one so far. That 'so far' didn't need saying either.

"Come on up to my cabin for a drink and we'll talk there. It'll be more private." He said, standing and motioning for her to follow him. It was sensible, moving up there. After all, several members of the crew would be coming below deck sooner or alter to rest and she didn't need them hearing the conversation she and the captain were about to have.

The captains cabin was tidy. Much more tidy than she'd have ever expected. His maps and charts were neatly placed on his desk near the right wall and all his instruments were placed in a box that was nailed down to it. In the farthest left corner was a large bed with a feather quilt draped over it and a small side table beside it. Nearby it was a small table and two seats, placed so they have a view through the aft window to the sea.

"Why don't you tell me why you're masquerading as a man, then?" Samuel took a seat and motioned for her to join her, uncapping a decanter of wine and pouring them both a glass. He leaned back and got comfortable while he swished the wine around his glass. It took Vick a few minutes to stop gawking around his cabin before sitting and taking her own glass and delving into her story. She covered her many disappointments to her parents, the failed engagements and finally the plan to sell her into slavery.

"I couldn't… I couldn't let myself be sold. So I ran away." She shrugs, taking a small sip of the wine. The older man sat quietly in thought for a long while. Vick began to tense up, growing paranoid. Would he turn the ship around and take her home to her family? After about ten minutes, Samuel nodded and set down his glass.

"You did the right thing, Vick. Slave trading is deplorable, though not nearly as much as selling ones child into slavery. You'll be safe once we reach Tortuga." He took his glass once more an held it up to her before finishing the wine and standing.

"Back on deck then, else the rest of the crew will think I'm favorin' ya." Vick nodded and saluted before running back out on deck and right back to her duties. It seemed that after Vick had gone below decks earlier, the captain had given a talking to the crew about respecting their mates. Not a single one of the brought up anything inappropriate about women for the remainder of the trip. Although, perhaps the captain didn't and they took Vick's insulted reaction as a sign that she didn't care for women. In that, they would be completely correct. Except that they still thought her to be a man.

Another two weeks into the voyage, the captain brought Vick out a weapon. She'd learned a bit about swordplay from the crew, using mops or brooms to practice but she'd never held a real sword before. The edge was slightly curved, nothing drastic but just enough to add an element of elegance to it. The hilt of the sword did not have a guard to it but those were usually only present on the swords of those employed with the royal navy. No, this one was ebony, one large piece of it that was carefully carved and etched with symbols she couldn't ever hope to recognize. The amount of effort on put into this, and the cost of it, would make it a very special weapon indeed and Vick wasn't blind to this.

She eyed the captain curiously as he handed the sword and sheath over to her and made a mental note to confront him as to why he was handing something over to her that obviously meant a great deal to him. This is not the sort of weapon one gives a new member of your crew, especially one that would be leaving in another two weeks.

"Ya need a weapon while your on the sea. Ya never know when pirates will attack a vessel like this, and I can't have any of the crew unarmed while we're entering the waters of known pirates. Now, draw your sword and come at me." Samuel said, drawing his broadsword. Vick hesitated for a moment, which was incredibly unwise as he thrust his sword toward her shoulder. The young woman quickly drew her sword upward, knocking his away almost a second to late. Taking a step back, Vick retaliated against the older man, side-stepping around him and blocking any strikes that come near her.

With her size and lack of strength in comparison to men, Vick had to focus on a more tactical approach to combat. Her feet danced in comparison to the lumbering stomps of men when they fought; her blade only met with an opponents when she needed to defend and even then, she learned to try to rely on dodging the attack rather than meeting blade to blade.

Her crewmates worked with her every moment they had free from regular duties. Occasionally, the captain would watch, give tips regarding her stance or footwork. Vick was quick to take his advice, quick to correct herself in an attempt to keep herself from becoming useless. She'd nearly forgotten about wanting to confront the captain as to the origin of the blade, being so caught up in learning from her mates.

By now on their journey her burns had tanned out, her hands had toughened up and no longer became raw or sore from working with the ropes and she had started to build up muscle. She stopped noticing the constriction to her breathing whenever she wrapped her chest, she just became used to it. If she hadn't been aware of the lack of an extra appendage between her legs, she'd think she were a man herself. They'd made port the night before in a small town off the coast of Ireland and most of the crew was on shore drinking, meeting ladies or buying clothes, weapons or souvenirs for family. Vick stayed on board and made her way to the captain's cabin.

Last time she had been invited, so when she raised her hand to knock at the door now her hand shook. Samuel was a good man, almost like a father figure to her by now but he had a presence that no one could deny. A man of his height and build, with a sword that he treated as thought it weighed no more than a toothpick, he could be quite scary at times. This was one of the times that Vick found him scary. She stood there, frozen, for about ten minutes before she rapped her knuckles against the door four times. It only took a moment for him to call for her to enter. He sounded to be in a fine mood, her uneasiness melted away at the sound of his voice and she stepped inside to see him working at the charts on his desk fervently.

"Captain, why ain't you ashore relaxing like the other men?" The question escaped her mouth before she could stop herself. He only laughed though and shook his head before waving his hands at the charts and setting his instruments aside.

"To much work to be done. While the crew wastes time and money ashore, I make sure we can make money once we leave." He said, leaning back in his seat and closed his eyes for a minute, taking a few relaxing breaths as he got his mind off his work while she was in there. While he did that, Vick quietly closed the door but stayed close in case she needed a quick exit.

"Now… I know ya didn't come in here to ask me that, lass." Vick swallowed hard before slowly drawing the sword he hand given her, holding the weapon horizontally in both hands. The older man looked at her curiously, obviously not understanding and assuming she meant to give it back. "That was a gift, Vick."

"I… I know but I have the feeling it wasn't meant for me." He looked at her with an upturned brow and she quickly continued, correcting herself as she went. "I mean, that's not to say that I don't appreciate it. I do, I really do! I just… this sword is just to elegant, to well made for someone like me. This was for someone else, wasn't it?" Somewhere along the way, Vick started tripping over her words and started staring at the floor. She couldn't look at her captain now.

"Vick, it was a gift. Can't ya accept that lass?" The woman risked a quick glance at his face. It looked pained.

"I… I want to but if it was important… I can't accept something that seemed so important to you." Her voice had become shaky. She knew the captain was already growing upset. His words had grown slightly tensed as she spoke more and more about the weapon.

"It is a sword. Nothing more or less." He might as well have tossed her into the ocean, for all the chill his words had but she couldn't stop herself. A character fault, perhaps, but once she started something there was a very small chance of her giving up.

"Not this sword, sir." She added the 'sir' at the last moment. "This sword was specially crafted. These swords are either very expensive or specifically ordered. This one is special, sir, I know that without a doubt. I can't accept it as a 'Here, don't get yourself killed.' gift."

"A sword is a sword, Vick!" The captain said sharply, standing quickly. She took a step back out of reflex, feeling the hard wood of the door behind her. Within a second her sword was sheathed and one hand held behind her, gripping the handle to the door. "I don't want to hear anymore questions about it! You're part of the crew and I'm the captain! If ya don't want the sword, throw it overboard and let yourself get killed if we're raided! Now get out!"

She didn't need telling twice. Vick tore open the door and scrambled out, tripping as she pulled the door shut and ran below deck.


End file.
